Snow Day
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This story is a one-shot that takes place after "Plain Clothes Day." It is inspired by the recent snowfall in the L.A. area, but I used a little poetic license. Nolan is one of the few who understands how to handle the weather - and there are other complications.


For a moment when John wakes up, he thinks he's back in Pennsylvania. The room is cold, something he hasn't experienced in Southern California. He checks the thermostat in his guest house and changes the mode to heat. The scent of a furnace starting up after a long lull, drifting through the register, tells him something is happening.

He slips into a pair of flip-flops, the only protection he has from a chilly floor, before going to the kitchen to start some coffee. A glance outside reveals something the natives may not have seen before - snow. There isn't much of it, and it's melting when it hits the ground, but it is definitely snow. He gives a little shudder at his vision of what will happen if it starts to stick and hordes of drivers who have no idea how to maneuver on it are on the roads.

He has plenty of time to get to the precinct, but with the confusion the flakes will cause to the unwary, decides that he'd better get ready quickly. Sergeant Grey doesn't always have much respect for John's experience, but Bishop does. She will be expecting him to take the lead on weather-related emergencies. He's coped with plenty of the white stuff, just not in L.A. and not as a cop.

The snow is coming down thicker and faster, and the road slickens as John approaches Mid-Wilshire. By the time he arrives, he's already spotted a couple of fender benders, but as far as he could tell there were no injuries, so he notified dispatch and kept on going to make his shift.

He changes into his uniform quickly and slides into his place at roll call. Neither Jackson or Lucy has arrived yet. As far as he knows neither one of them has ever lived outside L.A. and neither of them skis. Their encounters with snowy roads would be minimal at best.

Both of the other rookies rush in just before Sergeant Grey commands attention. "As you have all probably observed, the weather is causing considerable traffic problems."

John raises his hand. "Sergeant, how about the homeless? It's hard enough for them already, but if they're out on the streets in this weather, especially without the proper clothing, they could freeze. Isn't it just as important to make sure that our citizens have shelter as it is to keep them safe on the roads?"

Captain Zoe Andersen strides to the front of the room. "Officer Nolan is correct. We are coordinating with the mayor's office to develop a list of churches, synagogues, mosques, and other buildings where you can transport people to stay warm. There will also be an additional list of venues offering beds or in some cases floor space for the night or until we return to normal temperatures. Both of these will be continually updated and sent out to you."

* * *

A lot of homeless where you came from, Officer Nolan?" Bishop asks as John cautiously steers the shop into the slushy street.

"More than you might think, Bishop. People lose jobs. Businesses go south. Mine did for a couple of years. I was afraid I was going to lose my house so I took any contract I could get, worked every minute I could. That was the beginning of the end of my marriage.

"Here in L.A., the homeless are out where we can see them, in the alleys, under the bridges. In places where it gets cold, the homeless just aren't as visible, at least not in the winter. They find warmth wherever they can. I had some sleeping at my construction sites because I had to run heaters or the water-based paint we used wouldn't coalesce properly. Henry got together a group of his friends to bring them breakfast. That was one of the times I was proudest of him."

"Like father, like son."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Uh oh, that's dangerous." John gives a tweet of his siren to pull a car over.

A pretty blond lowers her window when John approaches. "What did I do wrong, officer?"

John checks her license and registration before giving her an answer. "Your view is occluded, Ma'am. Your back window is completely blocked, your side windows are snow covered, and your front windshield is barely cleared where your wipers hit. Do you know how to run your defroster?"

She shrugs. "Not really. I've only had the car a few months, and I've never had to try."

"You should always familiarize yourself with the controls in your vehicle. If you'll step out of the car, I'll locate it for you. And I have a brush and scraper we can use to clear the rest of the snow away."

"Where'd you get the brush, Nolan?" Bishop asks as they return to patrol.

"I had one in my car. Force of habit. I thought it might come in handy, so I brought it along."

"Good call."

* * *

John warms his hands over a steaming bowl. "It's been a while since I've appreciated chili this much, or straight up hot coffee either, but I think it should get better out there now. The thermometer on the dash showed thirty-two before we stopped for lunch, and the snow was down to flurries. Another degree or two and we should see this mess melt away, especially on the roads. There should still be enough heat trapped in the asphalt to take care of it pretty fast."

Bishop takes a bite of her extra flaming burrito. "Not too soon for me. This snow is like a lot of things in this city. They look beautiful and pure on the outside, and pull you in before you realize how dangerous they are."

"That sounds personal."

"Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Hell, no! Finish your lunch, Boot. We've still got more than half of our shift to go."

John points through the windshield of the shop. "Look at that house. The place is built like a castle. Whoever owns it has some big bucks but a pretty big heart. Look at the sign. 'Come in and get warm.' At least that's what the English says. Looks like it's also in Spanish and Chinese.'"

"It isn't on our list of safe places for people to go," Bishop notes. "Something doesn't smell right. We should check it out."

"You want to knock on the door?"

Bishop shakes her head. "We should scope it out first."

John studies the walk leading to the front door. "Lots of footprints leading in, none leading away."

"That's what I was afraid of. It's a trap, Nolan. I've seen this before. Kids, runaways mostly, are lured in by good food, a comfortable bed, and before they know it, their bodies are on the block."

"Prostitution?"

"Or worse. Paste on that ingratiating smile of yours, Boot. Ring the bell and ask if there's anyone inside who needs help."

"And then what?'

"We'll find out." Bishop holds her phone at ready to call for backup.

A gray-haired woman in an apron, answers the door. "Can I help you, officer?"

"That's what I was going to ask you, Ma'am. It looks like you've been generous enough to open your home to the victims of the weather. I was wondering if anyone needs medical attention or other assistance."

The woman's lips curl upward in a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Snug as a bug, officer. But thank you for your concern."

John hears a cry from inside. "Do it," Bishop urges, even as he draws his weapon and kicks the door wide open. Bishop hurriedly confirms her call for backup and follows him inside.

John moves toward the direction of the cry, finding a young woman chained to a bed. He can hear the siren of another shop screaming up as he discovers room after room of prisoners.

A holding cell door locks behind the grandmotherly woman, who is no longer smiling, and has said nothing since her demand for her lawyer. John turns to Bishop. "Want to talk about it, now? You knew what was going on the minute you saw the sign on that fairytale house, didn't you?"

"Yeah. When I was fifteen, the system put me in a bad situation. My foster mother was OK, but every time her back was turned, her husband tried to put his hands on me. I tried to keep my distance, but one night I couldn't. He had me cornered, and he wanted a lot more than to cop a feel. I fought back; put a knee in his balls and got out of there as fast as I could, with only what I had on, which was a T-shirt and cutoffs.

"There was a house like that, in a way. Not a castle, more like the gingerbread in Hansel and Gretel. I knew the place. It was like a mini-neighborhood-center that kids could go to after-school. The old couple who owned it would help us with our homework, let us play video games and give us pizza. But they were like the witch – fattening us up, not to eat but to sell. When I got there that night, they were all smiles, telling me I was safe. Next thing I know, a pimp shows up wanting fresh meat. I was lucky to get away from him. Family services shipped me off to Juvie until they could find another place for me.

"The place we were at today was even worse. I don't know what they were keeping those poor people for. Maybe human trafficking or black market organs. That's for the detectives to investigate. But I'm sure it was for something obscene."

"Thanks to your instincts, we got 'em, partner."

"I'm not your partner, Officer Nolan. I'm your training officer. You should know the difference by now. But we both did a good day's work. Want to get a drink?"

"Sure, I'd like that very much, Officer Bishop."


End file.
